A Normal Life
by thebonron
Summary: Mary never died, so the Winchesters are living a normal, happy life. Or are they? Follow the boys as they grow up with their mom and their less-than-perfect dad. What's life like in the Winchester home?
1. Family Issues

Dean sat at the kitchen counter, doing his homework. Mary came over to him, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, Dean. How's the studying going?"

"Not bad... I have a test in a few days, though."

"Do you feel like you're ready for this test?"

"Not really," Dean admitted. "Freshman Algebra is hard."

"I think that you just need to spend some more time working on it," Mary looked at her son. "It'll come to you, if you commit yourself to grasping the material."

"I guess..."

At that moment, ten year old Sam ran into the kitchen, breathless. "Hey Mom! What's for dinner?"

"Stew," Mary said.

"How soon will it be ready? I'm really hungry."

"In about thirty minutes..." Mary looked at her watch. "Around the time your father usually comes home from work."

"That's ages from now!" exclaimed Sam, reaching for a cookie.

"Uh-uh," Mary smacked his hand lightly. "No snacking before your dinner. It'll ruin your appetite."

"Aw, Mom," Sam whined.

"Sorry, hon. I just don't want you filling up before the stew."

"Fine," Sam whined. "Hey Dean, watcha doing?"

"Homework," Dean said, not looking up from his textbook.

"What kind of homework?"

"Math homework. Leave me alone, Sam."

"Why are you taking so long to finish it?"

"Sam, get lost."

"Hey, I was just asking. You're such a-"

Sensing an impending fight between the two boys, Mary intervened. "Sam, here's an idea- instead of brooding around the kitchen and bugging your brother, why don't you go and play outside for a bit? I'll call you when it's time to eat."

"OK!" Sam replied and quickly ran out into their backyard to shoot some hoops.

"Thanks Mom," Dean turned to his mother as soon as Sam was gone. "And Mom?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Please don't tell Dad about the math test."

"Why not?"

"Well, if he knows that I have to write it, he'll want to know how I did. And if I do bad, he'll kill me dead."

"Dean," Mary looked at him, not understanding. "You didn't even write the test yet. How can you know in advance that you'll do badly on it?"

"You know, just in case. I'm not good at math and you know how strict Dad is about schoolwork."

"Dean, I don't like where this is going. I'll admit that your father takes school seriously, but he's not going to kill you for getting a bad grade."

_You have no idea_, Dean thought gloomily, but nodded instead.

"Tell you what, Dean. I won't tell him about the test now, but if he asks about math class, I won't cover you. Especially since there _is _nothing to cover."

"Fine," Dean looked down. "I guess that's fair."

"Alright," Mary smiled at him. "And don't set yourself up for failure. You'll do well on this test, I know you will. Now, I have to get back to stirring the stew, but be ready to eat in about twenty minutes, O.K.?"

An hour later, John still wasn't there. The stew had already been poured into the bowls and Mary and the boys sat waiting for him at the table.

"I'm hungry," Sam said for the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

"I know, baby," Mary looked at him. "But you know how Daddy hates it when we eat without him. It won't be much longer."

"You said that twenty minutes ago," Dean mumbled under his breath, but as soon as he finished saying it, they heard the front door open. John walked into the dining room, looking angry.

"You won't believe the day I've had," he said, sitting down at his place at the head of the table.

"John, you're late," Mary observed. "The stew's getting cold and we are getting pretty tired of waiting for you."

"Mary, I don't need this right now," John grumbled. "I just told you that I had a crazy day at work. Can you not bug me about being ten minutes late, please?"

"Fine," Mary said coldly, not wanting to provoke an argument. "Boys, let's eat now."

The four of them sat at the table, eating their stew and not really talking much, except to ask someone to pass the salt or pour them some water.

"Mary, this stew tastes like shit," John suddenly announced.

"Well, John, maybe if you hadn't been an hour late for dinner, it would have tasted better," Mary looked at her husband, her eyes filling up with anger.

"So it's my fault you can't cook?"

"Excuse me? I wait for you to get home, making you a home-cooked meal. Not only do you not appreciate it, but you insult my cooking. Where do you get off, saying that?"

Dean and Sam sat in their seats, not saying anything, not wanting to create any more tension between their parents.

"Would you stop nagging me about being late? I had stuff to do, okay?" John glared at Mary.

"John, if you hate my cooking so much, then maybe you can cook for yourself from now on. Because I don't see you ever so much as lifting a finger to help me out around here."

"Would you stop being a bitch about it?" John exploded. "I was just saying..."

"Mom," Sam suddenly interrupted.

"Samuel, hasn't anyone ever told you that you don't interrupt your elders?" John looked at his youngest. "Or is that concept new to you?"

"No, Dad, I'm sorry, it's just that..." Sam pointed at something.

"I don't care what it is!" John banged his fist on the table. "You don't interrupt while your mother and I are trying to have a conversation!"

"John, calm down," Mary touched his elbow lightly, to get John to stop yelling. "Sam probably wants to say something important."

Actually, Sam was going to ask his mother to pass the milk. Not wanting to anger John any more than he already had, Sam decided to reach for the pitcher himself. However, the pitcher was too heavy for him and it slipped out of his hand, falling to the ground. The milk pitcher shattered into a thousand pieces, a mixture of crushed glass and white liquid all over the floor.

"What the hell!" John stood up. "Samuel, did you do that on purpose?"

"No, sir, it slipped..." Sam stuttered, obviously afraid of what his father would do or say next.

"Dad, it was an accident," Dean joined it, standing up for his brother. "The pitcher was too heavy for him."

Suddenly a loud sound filled the room, the sound of something hard hitting flesh. John had backhanded Sam, hitting him hard on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed, the tears coming to his eyes. "That hurts!"

"John!" Mary exclaimed.

Sam was crying really hard by now.

"Sh, Sammy..." Mary was trying to soothe him, all while looking at John. "It's okay."

"Don't baby him, Mary," John looked away. "Kid had it coming."

"Sam, Dean, I think that you should go to your room. I'll be up in a couple of minutes."

Not stalling for even a second, Sam and Dean got up from the table and headed straight to the room the two of them shared. Dean put a protective arm around his little brother's shoulders and the two of them walked up the stairs, Sammy sniffling quietly the entire way there.


	2. Let's Talk

"John!" Mary turned to her husband as soon as the boys left the kitchen to go upstairs. "What did you just do?"

"Look at this mess, Mary," John replied. "Samuel had it coming."

"It was just an accident! You didn't have to hit him for it!"

"He had it coming," John repeated, getting up from the table and sitting down in front of the TV.

"You know what, John..." Mary started, but decided against it. Arguing with John when he was in one of his moods was pretty much useless. So she cleaned up the mess made from the spilt milk and went up to the boys' room, making up her mind to talk to John about the incident later that night.

Mary went up the stairs to the second floor of their house and rounded the corner to the room her two boys shared. She knocked quietly.

"Come in," she heard Dean's voice answer.

"Hey..." she said, coming in and sitting down next to Sammy, who was lying on his bed, face buried in a pillow. "How are you two?"

"Fine," Dean said from the desk chair in which he had been sitting. Sam didn't reply at all. Mary gently tapped his shoulder.

"Sammy? You there?"

Sam sat up and Mary could see that his eyes were a bit red from crying.

"I'm fine," he said, making an effort not to look his mother in the eye.

"You always were a bad liar, Sam," Mary smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. "Come here."

"Dad hit me," Sam said, as though realizing it for the first time. "He never hit me before."

"I know, sweetie," Mary said, her heart breaking for her youngest. "And what your father did is inexcusable. But believe me when I say that what he did in no way means that he doesn't love you."

"Really?" Sam looked at his mother with big eyes.

"Yes," Mary couldn't believe she was making excuses for what her husband did. But then again, what else could she do when her child needed so desperately to be reassured that none of this was his fault?

"But I spilled the milk..."

"Sammy, that was an accident. It could have happened to any one of us. Your father wasn't mad about the milk, not really. It's just that sometimes grownups have a bad day and they take their anger out on kids. That is not okay, but that _is _what happens sometimes."

"That's right, Sammy," Dean piped in, who had been sitting quietly until then, seemingly absorbed in his reading. John _had _hit Dean a couple of times before. "Grownups have bad days just like kids do."

Mary smiled at Dean, silently thanking him for helping her to explain all of this to Sam.

"Your father is probably already regretting it," Mary said. "He'll come up to you and apologize real soon. And _I'll _see to it that nothing like this ever happens again."

"OK, Mommy," Sammy said, looking down at his toes.

"You good, baby?" Mary looked him over, giving him a hug. "Your head doesn't hurt or anything?"

"No... I do feel a bit tired, though..."

"That's because it's ten o'clock, a half hour past your bedtime. Not to mention the fact that you had a pretty tiring day."

"Ten o'clock already?" Sam asked. "It doesn't seem like it!"

"Why don't you go take your shower and get into your pyjamas, while I talk to Dean. When you come back, I'll tuck you in for the night."

"OK, Mommy," Sam smiled his irresistible, little kid smile. "I'll be back soon!"

When Sam went to go to the bathroom, Mary turned to her eldest.

"How are you, Dean?"

"I'm okay, Mom. I wasn't the one that was hit."

"You've had a long day regardless. Besides, I'm sure it scared you when Dad started snapping at you at the table."

"Nah, it was fine. Sam was a bit shook up, but I told him that it was okay, that Dad didn't mean it and all that." Dean was swivelling around in his chair while talking to Mary.

"Dean," Mary put her hand on Dean's elbow to stop him from spinning around in the chair. "You are such a good big brother to Sammy. You're there for him when he needs you and you calm him down when he's upset. You have no idea how proud I am of you for that."

"Thanks, Mom, but it's fine. Nothing special. Sam's my little brother- it's what I'm supposed to do."

Mary sighed, knowing that Dean would never fully understand just how special he really was.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that it's okay to loosen up sometimes. Let _me_ take care of Sammy."

"I know, Mom," Dean smiled. "It's not like he listens to me anyways."

"Dean, he admires you like you wouldn't believe," Mary said, giving Dean a kiss on the top of the head. "And so do I."

"I love you, Mom," Dean said, giving Mary a hug. "Thanks for, you know, sticking by us with the whole milk thing."

"Well, of course I'd stick by you, Dean. What your father did is _not _okay. In fact, I'm going to talk to him about it right now. Right after I tuck Sammy in."

"Okay, Mom."

"But you're not ten years old, so you don't have to go to bed yet. Are you going to go downstairs and watch some T.V.?"

"Actually, I'm pretty tired, so I'm going to go to bed now, like Sam."

"Well, in that case, go take your shower and brush your teeth after Sammy. I'll tuck you in as well."

"Aren't I too old?" Dean laughed.

"You'll never be too old. Now scoot. Go shower," she said as Sammy came in.

Dean smiled and went on his way to the bathroom. Later that night, after the boys had been tucked in, Mary went downstairs to talk to John.

"John," she addressed her husband, who by the looks of things had not changed positions since she saw him last. "Can we talk?"

"What?" he asked, taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

"Are you ready to talk about what happened tonight?"

"What's there to talk about? Kid stepped out of line, I corrected him."

"Do you really think that backhanding him is an appropriate way to handle the situation?"

"He needs to learn not to act out."

"It was an accident. And besides- it's just milk! You clean it up and that's all there is to it!"

"Mary can you not nag me right now please? I get home from work and all I ever hear is your nagging."

"You know what, John?" Mary, who was normally pretty patient, finally lost it. "All you ever care about is how YOU feel. You don't give a rat's ass about me or the boys!"

"We'll talk when you're not so freaking emotional," John didn't shift his gaze from the T.V.

"No, we won't. Because I don't feel like talking to you anymore. Do whatever you want, John."

With that Mary Winchester went upstairs to her bedroom.

Meanwhile, in the boys' bedroom, Sammy was tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep.

"Dean?" he called in the darkness. "Dean, are you asleep?"

"I _was_ asleep," Dean grumbled. "What is it, Sam?"

"Sorry, Dean. I just wanted to ask about Dad."

"Yeah?" Dean softened his tone of voice. "What is it, Sammy?"

"Is what Mom said true? That he's not mad at me about the milk?"

"Of course, it's true, Sam. You should be mad at him for hitting you."

"I should?"

Dean bit his tongue as soon as he said it. He didn't want Sammy being angry at Dad. "No, no, you shouldn't. I was just talking to myself. Forget I ever said anything."

"But Dad's not mad at _me_?" Sam asked again. "I hate it when people are mad at me."

"No, no, he's not mad at you, Sam. Just watch, Dad'll probably apologize to us today or tomorrow. Now go to sleep."

But John never did.


	3. John's Office

A few days had passed and things had pretty much went back to normal for the members of the Winchester household. The incident with the milk was never mentioned again, because no one was willing to bring it up. It was put aside and almost forgotten, with no one bringing that day up again. Mary and John's relationship also went back to it's previous state, with them fighting a bit about the way the boys were being raised, but not so much that they couldn't bear to be around each other.

Meanwhile Dean had been studying hard for his math test. He really wanted to do well on this test, to pull his grade up from that C he had gotten on his last report card. In regards to school, Dean wasn't like Sammy at all. For Sam, A's came easy, even though he never spent more than twenty minutes on homework each night. Granted, Sammy was only in fifth grade, but still- Dean had never gotten all A's, even at Sam's age. Dean had to try twice as hard to get grades that were half as good as Sam's. And although Mary constantly reminded her eldest that everyone learned things differently and that his grades weren't an accurate reflection on how smart he was, Dean still wanted to impress his mother by getting a good grade in math, his hardest subject. He wanted her to congratulate him on a perfect report card, like she did Sammy.

Dean sat at his desk, early one evening, studying for his test. All of a sudden, the numbers on his calculator started flickering on and off, disappearing and then reappearing back again. Dean tried pressing the "clear" button a couple of times, but all that did was turn the calculator off completely.

_Great,_ Dean thought to himself. _Just great. I guess it's out of batteries._

"Mom!" Dean called. "Mom!"

When he received no answer, Dean went downstairs into the kitchen to find Sammy opening the door to the refrigerator.

"Hey Sam," Dean looked at his little brother, who was helping himself to a chunk of cheese. "Where's Mom?"

"She went to the store to buy groceries and to drop something off at the post office. She'll be back in about thirty to forty minutes."

"What? She's not here?"

"I think that's what I meant when I said that she left to buy groceries," Sam smiled his cheeky grin.

"Don't be a smartass, Sam," Dean gave him a look. "I need to know where Mom keeps the spare batteries."

"I don't know," Sam shrugged.

"Well I need them now because I'm right in the middle of studying for my test!"

"OK, Deanie, I'll help you look," Sam replied.

"Don't call me Deanie," Dean said, but agreed to let Sam help him look for the extra batteries in the kitchen.

The boys searched in all the kitchen counters, but didn't find the batteries that Dean needed.

"Maybe Dad has some in his office," Dean decided, after the boys had looked through all the counters.

"You're not supposed to touch his stuff, Dean," Sam said wisely.

"I know, but if I take them and use them for now, how will he ever know? And then when Mom comes back I'll ask her for new batteries and put the old ones back where they came from. Dad'll never know."

"I don't know, Dean..." Sam said, but Dean was already running up the stairs, so Sammy quickly followed him.

"Dean, Dad says that he never wants to see us in his office," Sam said, standing by the door of John's office while Dean went in. "He'll get really mad if he finds out we were in here."

"He won't find out," Dean said, looking through John's drawers. "Ah, look batteries!" Dean pulled out two double A Energizers.

"Dean, what if Dad finds out you took them? He'll kill you."

"Sam, you worry too much. I'll put them back real soon."

"OK," Sam finally agreed, coming into the room. "But don't forget."

"I won't... Hey!" Dean said, pointing at a stack of papers on John's desk. The sheet of paper on top of the pile had Dean's name written on it. "What's that?"

"What are you pointing at?" Sam asked.

"That," Dean turned around to show Sam what he was talking about. However, as he turned around, he accidentally knocked over the stack of a souvenir glass that was standing on one of the shelves of John's desk with his elbow. The glass hit the base of John's chair and cracked in two big pieces and many other little ones.

"Shit!" Dean cried out. "Oh no!"

"Dean!" Sam looked up in horror. "That was Dad's!"

"I know, Sam!" Dean snapped. "Here, I'll just clean it up."

Dean started picking up the pieces quickly. In his hurry, he picked up a piece by the wrong side, cutting his hand.

"Ow!" he cried out in pain.

"You OK, Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, let's just get this cleaned up!" The boys picked up the pieces, Dean put the Energizers back into their cupboard and they ran out of the office. Once back in the kitchen, they quickly threw the pieces of broken glass into the garbage and threw a couple of paper towels on top of that, so that no one would come across the glass in the garbage bin. Only then did Dean run his hand under cold water, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

"Dean?" Sammy finally broke the silence. "I'm scared."

"What are you scared of, Sammy? You didn't do anything."

"Well, what's Dad going to do to you?"

"I'm kind of hoping that he never finds out. After all, he has a lot of stuff on those shelves. I doubt he'll notice that one glass. I mean he might notice eventually, but probably not today." In reality, Dean was just as scared as Sam was, he just didn't want to let Sam know that John's reaction still frightened him.

"Still, Dean, if he does..." but Sam was stopped with the sound of the front door opening and Mary coming into the house.

"Hi boys," she said. "Can you help me with those grocery bags, please?"

"Sure," Dean said after about thirty seconds of silence. "Come on, Sam."

"Did something happen?" Mary looked from Dean to Sam, who were both looking down at the floor. "You both look kind of funny."

"No, Mom, everything's fine," Dean replied and Sam nodded.

"Well, OK... Dean you're bleeding!" Mary exclaimed, noticing Dean's hand.

"Oh, yeah, that."

"Dean, what happened while I was gone?" Mary said, giving her son one of her _Mom _looks.

"Um, Dean and I were playing outside and he slipped and fell, breaking the fall with his hand," Sam said, thinking fast.

"Yeah, that's what happened," Dean nodded quickly. "We were playing tag in the backyard and I tripped."

"You tripped on the grass? Sounds to me like something isn't quite adding up here," Mary said. "But oh well. Maybe you'll tell me what really happened later. Come here, Dean, I'll bandage and sanitize your hand."

Dean sat down across from Mary in a kitchen chair, while Mary opened the first aid kid and started wiping Dean's cut with antiseptic, while Sam sat watching the whole procedure. "Sh, honey, I'm almost done," Mary said, when she saw Dean wince. She quickly wrapped a bandage around Dean's cut. "There, all done," she smiled.

At that moment, the front door opened again and John came in. "Hey," he said, taking no notice of the first aid kit lying on the kitchen table. "I'm going to go change and then I'll come down for dinner."

"Alright," Mary said and John headed upstairs.

John had merely been downstairs for ten minutes when he came rushing back, with an angry look.

"Alright, boys!" he raised his voice dramatically. "Who has been touching things in my office?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Dean said, looking away from his father.

"Oh yeah? Then what about the messed up papers, the blood on the floor and the bits of broken glass. Was that you, Sam? Because I swear I'll-."

"Sam had nothing to do with it," Dean imposed, sighing as he spoke. "It was my fault, Dad."


	4. My Fault

"Your fault, Dean?" John gave his eldest son a look that made shivers go up Dean's spine. "Well, then I think that we'd better continue this discussion upstairs."

"No, Daddy, I was..."

"_No,_" Dean looked fixedly at Sam. "I was the only one in your office, Dad."

Sam sighed, knowing that Dean would never let him take the blame and get in trouble with John. He just stayed silent, because he knew that no matter what he tried to say, Dean would interrupt and tell John that it wasn't his fault. That was just the kind of brother that Dean was, always looking out for his younger sibling.

"John," Mary spoke. "I think that we need to talk about this together, as a family. Because it seems to me like both boys have something to say here."

"Stay out of this, Mary," John replied, rudely. "It was my office, so I'm the one who gets to deal with it. Dean, let's go."

"Fine John. You can talk to him, but don't punish Dean without discussing it with me first," Mary told him. "I want to find out what this is all about before making any decisions."

"Dean, let's go. I won't tell you another time," John barked. Dean followed John upstairs, while Sam shot him worried looks.

Once upstairs, John told Dean to go into his office. Dean went in, feeling nervous about what his father would do now, after he had found out that he had been inside his office after being specifically told not to go in there.

"Dean Winchester," John said, standing across from his son. "You want to take this time to tell me what the hell went on in here?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean looked down at the floor as he spoke.

"Sorry doesn't explain what went on in here," John said simply.

"I needed spare batteries for school and I couldn't find any anywhere and I needed to study because the test is in only two days and I did bad on my last test, so I needed to do well so I thought I'd go into the office and look... I didn't touch anything else..." Dean paused in his rambling, trying to catch his breath. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You went into my office without permission for a pair of fucking batteries?" John gave him a death look. "Do you not value your life at all, Dean? What have I told you and Samuel about going into my office before?"

"Not... not to go in there, Dad," Dean stuttered.

"That's right. And you directly disobeyed an order. But that does not explain the glass on the floor or the stack of papers, Dean."

"I accidently knocked over the glass and as I was cleaning it up I must have messed up the papers. I'm sorry, sir."

"I am fucking tired of hearing your goddamn apologies!" John yelled.

"But you said that..."

"You will NOT talk back to me, young man!" John yelled and an ominous sound filled the room as he slapped his eldest across the face, pushing him back against the wall.

That slap really hurt. As would have been expected, John threw a mean punch. He had hit Dean so hard that Dean literally saw stars for a little bit. When he regained consciousness, Dean found himself on the floor, with blood pouring out of his nose.

"Dad..." Dean started, struggling to get up.

"You go into my office, touch my stuff... AND you break something. Dean, you more than deserve the punishment that I am about to give you."

"No, Dad... I'm sorry!" Dean cried, but it was too late and John had already slammed him back against the wall.

"You do NOT go into my office, understood? You do not touch my stuff and you especially do not touch my papers!" John screamed at him, while alternating punches between Dean's stomach, Dean's face and Dean's back.

Despite the pain that was rapidly shooting through all of Dean's body, the boy, despite his better judgement, spoke up. "But sir, I saw a paper with my name on it..."

"That is none of your business!" John yelled, hitting his son's back even harder.

Dean felt the tears come to his eyes and eventually roll down his cheeks. He didn't normally cry, because John hated crying, but at this time, he couldn't hold the tears in any longer. They began to flow freely down his face.

"Are you _crying?_" John screamed at him. "God, Dean, you're a girl. A freaking girl." With a final kick, John left Dean in a puddle in the corner of his office. "You deserved everything that you got, Dean. Maybe this will teach you not to go near my stuff!"

Dean struggled to get up and fell back down again. "And don't you dare tell your mother about this!" John threatened him. "If I ever find out that you talked to her about this, you will not live to see the next day." With that, John Winchester left his office and left Dean lying there, alone and helpless.

Dean once again tried to sit up and this time, he was able to, with the help of his hands and knees, find a seating position. Dean sat that way for a while, not moving. The tears came and went, while he thought about what to do next. One thing was certain- his mother and brother could not know about this. It wasn't even John's threat of killing him that worried the fourteen year-old. Dean knew that if Mary found out what had happened in there, it would kill her. So he resolved to keep this from her, no matter how bad the pain engulfing his body was.

Just like that, Dean got up and walking slowly, carefully, went into the bathroom. He cleaned himself up with some water, careful not to touch any of the bruises already beginning to form on his torso. John had left no marks on his face or hands, though, so it was fairly easy for Dean to act as if nothing had happened. He splashed some water on his face to not make it look like he had been crying. After that, Dean tried to look normal as he went downstairs, finding his mother and brother sitting at the kitchen table.

"Dean!" Mary stood up. "You guys were gone for so long. What happened?"

"Nothing. Dad and I just talked, that's all. Where is he?"

"He went for a drive. Was he hard on you about the glass?"

"How do you know?" Dean asked in puzzlement.

"Sammy told me everything."

"_What _did Sammy tell you?"

"That you two were looking for batteries and you accidentally knocked over a glass. You shouldn't have been in your dad's office, Dean."

"I know, I just..."

"Was Dad mad?"

"Yeah, he was. He yelled at me and said that the next time something like this happens, I'll be grounded for a month."

"Well, I'd say you got off easy, Dean," Mary looked at him. "You know how your father gets."

_I do,_ Dean thought, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Mom. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about my hand."

"I'm sure your father has already yelled at you a good deal, so I won't give you the telling the truth lecture. Just don't lie to me again."

"Sure, Mom," Dean replied, even though that was what he was doing right now. "I'll tell you the truth from now on."

"Good," Mary kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," Dean said, leaning over to hug his mother despite the fierce pain that was rapidly shooting up his side.

* * *

Later that night, when Sam and Dean were lying in their beds on the opposite sides of the room they shared, after they had brushed their teeth, Mary had said goodnight to both of them, after they had turned the lights off, Sam turned to Dean.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Dad do about the glass?"

"I told you already, Sammy," Dean sighed. "He yelled at me and said that if I'm ever caught in his office again, he'll ground me for a month."

"Really? He didn't hit or anything?"

"No," Dean lied to his brother. "He just yelled, that's all."

"That's good," Sammy smiled. "I thought he'd..."

"Go to sleep, Sam," Dean interrupted Sam's sentence.

"One more thing, Dean."

"What is it?"

"I just... Thanks, Dean, for telling Dad that you were the only one in the office. But you didn't have to do that, you know. It was my fault too."

"No, it wasn't, Sammy. It was my fault. Now go to sleep."

"Alright, Dean," Sammy sighed. Talking to Dean was like talking to a wall. "Good night."

"Good night," Dean replied and turned the other way, so that he was facing the wall.

Dean laid awake for a long time that night. Not only because of the physical pain spreading all across his body, but because of fear of what John would do to him next time he did something wrong and how he would be forced to hide it from Mary and Sam. As he lay there in the dark, Dean silently let a few tears fall. He quickly stifled them, though, and went back to thinking things over. This went on for many hours. It was only around four a.m. that Dean finally fell asleep, exhausted from the day's events.


	5. Accident

The next day, Dean got up, feeling terrible. Things weren't going well for him. His body ached, his head hurt and his neck was sore from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. As he got up, Dean heard the sound of Sammy's quiet snoring. He also realized that e no sounds were coming from downstairs. That meant that he had gotten up earlier than everyone else in the house. This was good, because he could change for school without Sammy noticing and asking questions about the bruises on his body. Dean went to check out his bruises in the bathroom. Luckily, none had formed on his face- that would have been practically impossible to hide. When he took off his T-shirt, however, Dean noticed the dark, ugly bruises all over his upper body.

_Damn, _Dean thought. _Those bruises look really bad. _

But Dean was never one for whining or feeling sorry for himself, so he, following his previous plan not to let anyone know about the bruises, splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth and put on a long-sleeved shirt, covering any signs of what had happened last night. Mary and Sam couldn't know about what John had done, they just couldn't... And he didn't know how long he could keep lying to them if they asked them about it. That was why Dean was also determined to act as if everything was great, nothing wrong at all.

It wasn't long before Sammy got up and started knocking on the bathroom door.

"Get out of there, Dean!" he whined. "I have to take a shower!"

"Tough luck!" Dean called back, lifting up his shirt to examine the bruises one last time. "I was here first!"

"Dean!" Sam banged on the door with his fist. "I'll call Mom!"

Dean was going to retort something back to Sam, but realized that he had nothing to do in the bathroom anyways. So he got out of there, opening the door for Sammy.

"There, _Samantha. _Go put on your stupid makeup."

"You're the one who spent hours in there," Sam retorted. "I just need to brush my teeth and I really don't want to be late for school."

"Of course you don't want to be late for school," Dean mumbled. "You wouldn't want to miss _precious_ class time."

"You're being a jerk!" Sam spat out.

"You're being a baby."

"I'm going to tell Mom on you!" Sam threatened his older brother.

"Whatever," Dean said and went downstairs to get some breakfast.

By the time Dean came down to the kitchen, Mary was already there, frying eggs for breakfast.

"Hey Mom," Dean said cautiously."Where's Dad?"

"He had to go to work early."

"OK," Dean visibly relaxed. Mary noticed this.

"Did you guys fight about the office? Is he giving you a hard time about it?"

"No, not really..."

Dean was saved from having to explain this because Sam came into the kitchen.

"Here boys, take a plate," Mary said. "I've made scrambled eggs and toast."

"Maybe you shouldn't eat, Sammy," Dean said quietly, as he was reaching for a plate.

"You jerk!" Sam was unable to notice that Dean was in an exceptionally bad mood and cut him some slack.

"Boys," Mary intervened. "It's too early. What are you two fighting about now?"

"Dean called me a baby and wouldn't let me in the bathroom!"

"Snitch," Dean looked down.

"Dean," Mary looked at her eldest. "Be nice. What's gotten into you."

"Nothing. I just don't feel good."

"You know what, Dean? You don't _look _good," Mary said, observing the dark circles under his eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"No. I barely got any sleep. My head is killing me."

"How would you feel about staying home today?" Mary asked, feeling his forehead. "You're not hot, but I think that you could use a day of rest."

"What?" Sam joined in. "He teases me and you let him stay home."

"Sammy, Dean is obviously not feeling well."

"No, Mom, I need to go to school today," Dean surprised everyone by saying that. "I have that math test today, remember?"

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "Dean wanting to go to school?"

"Well, OK, Dean, if you say so," Mary looked at him in disbelief. "But I could write you a note, you know."

"No, Mom, it's fine," Dean said again. The boy had another reason for wanting to go to school. As much as he wanted to stay home and let his mother take care of him, Dean felt like she'd notice the bruises for sure if he stayed at home all day. And more than anything, he wanted to prevent that from happening.

"Well, I'll drive you two, so that you don't have to walk," Mary said. "But Dean, if you feel sick or _anything_, you call me right away, OK?"

"OK," Dean replied while Sammy continued staring at him, disbelieving the fact that Dean, who hated school, had refused to stay home after Mary had suggested it.

Mary dropped Sam off at his school and Dean off at his. "If you need me to pick you u p, you just call, OK?" she asked Dean, as he was leaving the car.

"I'll be fine, Mom, really," Dean said unconvincingly.

The day went by as usual, without anything interesting happening. Dean wrote his test, which was a bit hard, but given how much he had studied, wasn't too difficult for him. Some other day, he would have worried about the marks, but now he had bigger problems to think about.

Dean was mulling everything that had happened last night in his head when he came up to Sam's school at the end of the day. Sam was waiting there, like he always did, for Dean to pick him up and for the two to walk home together. Sam noticed Dean and joined him, but he refused to talk to him or look him in the eye. Sam was still angry at Dean for that morning, so they didn't really talk on the way there and on

"Come on, Sam," Dean said, after a few minutes of them walking alongside each other in silence. "I'm sorry for being a jerk to you this morning, but I was in a really bad mood."

"Fine," said Sammy, who wasn't used to staying mad at anyone for too long. "I'm sorry for getting on your nerves."

"It's not your fault," Dean sighed.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Why were you in such a bad mood today?"

"Um, I just... didn't sleep well, Sam. That's all."

"OK..." Sam said uncertainly. "Dean..."

"How was school, Sam?" Dean said, switching the subject.

"Fine... A firefighter came in to talk to us about fire safety. I won the trivia game and he gave me this," Sam said, pulling something out of his backpack.

"A Frisbee!" Dean smiled. "Cool!"

"Let's play with it," Sam suggested.

"OK," Dean agreed. "Toss it to me!"

Sam tossed, but his aim was not very good and he hit Dean in the stomach.

"Owwww..." Dean moaned. "Ow!"

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean said, doubled over from the pain. "I'm fine, Sammy."

"Here, let me just check..." Sammy said, running over to Dean and pulling up his shirt.

"Sam, no!" Dean called, but it was too late and Sammy had seen a deep bruise on the lower half of Dean's stomach.

"Dean?" Sammy asked uncertainly. "What's that?"


	6. Sam Finds Out

AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! I LOVE REVIEWS!

In response to questions/ comments:

-No, John is not doing any hunting in this story. Because Mary didn't die, there is no demon for John to kill. The story is a "what if they had a _normal_ life?" scenario.

-I know, I know, I'm trying to get more of John's character into the story, but it isn't always working out how I want it to.

Sam Finds Out

"Dean?" Sam asked, looking nervously at his brother. "Dean, what's that on your stomach?"

"Nothing, Sam!" Dean replied, standing up hastily. "Just, you know, the Frisbee hitting my stomach."

But Sam wasn't stupid. He knew full well that bruises didn't form that quickly, so he didn't believe Dean one bit.

"Dean. That's impossible. The bruise is too big to be from the Frisbee. Besides, it wouldn't have formed that fast."

Dean tried a different approach. "I fell down the stairs at school. You know how slippery they are."

"You fell on your stomach? Deanie, come on."

Dean sighed. He knew that there was no use in trying to lie his way out of telling Sam the truth because by now the kid had already caught on that something was up.

"Don't call me Deanie! But, fine, Sam, if you must know, it was Dad."

"Dad?" Sam gaped at Dean in disbelief. "What? When?"

"When I broke that glass in his office."

"But… you said…"

"Well, I lied," Dean looked down at the floor, embarrassed to be caught in a lie by someone who practically idolized him. "He actually took me into his office and kicked my ass."

"Dean!" Sam couldn't stand the thought of his older brother, his hero, being hurt.

"I'm fine now, Sammy," Dean tried to calm him down. "It wasn't that bad."

That line would have worked had Sammy not already seen the bruise forming on Dean's stomach. "You don't _look _fine…"

"I am fine! I'm not fainting from the pain or anything, right?"

"I guess…" Sammy mused. "But, Dean, why didn't you tell me or Mom right after it happened?"

"Um…" Dean started, not wanting to discourage his little brother.

Suddenly Sam realized that they were still standing on the side of the street, holding the Frisbee.

"Let's head home, Dean," he said. "We wouldn't want Mom to worry."

Dean was more than happy to get away from the subject of his bruises. The two boys walked homeward in silence for a little while, just looking quietly ahead of them. Finally Sam brought up the subject once again.

"So Dean, you haven't answered my question. Why didn't you tell me or Mom right after it happened?"

"Well, I didn't want to freak Mom out… And I knew that you'd tell her if I told you."

"I would not!" San exclaimed, offended.

"Yeah, you would."

"No, I wouldn't! Why, do you think that I'm a snitch?"

"No… I think that you're a blabbermouth which you kind of are."

"I am not! I may talk a lot, but I can keep a secret." If there was one thing that Sam hated, it was being called a blabbermouth. It wasn't because he was deeply convinced that he _wasn't _a blabbermouth, it was because he always felt like Dean was putting him down when he called him that. He so desperately wanted to change, not be the baby his family still saw him as.

"If you can keep a secret, prove it," Dean looked his little brother in the eye. "Don't tell Mom _anything_ about our conversation today."

"But Dean…" Sam hesitated. "I really think that this is something that Mom should know about."

"Why? It's over now and it won't happen again. There's no reason to get her all worried now."

"How do you know that it won't happen again?" Sam asked reasonably.

"It just won't…" Dean began, growing impatient. "Can you just do what I ask, please?"

"But Dean, doesn't Mom always say that if we have a problem, we should always talk to her about it first?"

That was true. Mary always promised to listen, without judging, to whatever problem the boys could be having at that particular moment. She's help them in any way she could, whether by suggesting possible solution or just by listening and babying the boys when they simply needed someone to be there for them. Mary always insisted, however, that the boys come to her and talk about things instead of holding it all in deep inside of them. Usually the boys were eager to talk to their mother, but this time around, Dean, stubborn as he was, was determined to deal (or not deal) with the situation by himself.

"Well, I really don't see why I should worry her for nothing, Sam. You know how she gets when she grows angry at Dad."

"But she'll make you feel better and stuff. She always makes me feel better when I'm feeling bad." That was also true. Mary was awesome at comforting Sam and Dean when they needed it, holding them close and telling them that everything would be alright.

"Who ever said that I was feeling bad? Sam, leave me alone," Dean grew angry as he realized that the two of them had reached their house already, but were still standing in front of their gate, arguing. "It's _me _that Dad hit, so it's _my _choice whether or not I tell Mom anything. Not yours. Unless of course, you'll be a snitch and rat me out."

Dean looked at his baby brother accusingly, silently asking him whether or not he'd inform Mary of what had happened the other night.

"I won't…" Sam said quietly. Dean nodded at him while looking down, which was his way of saying 'thank you'.

"You should listen to me more, Sam," Dean observed, looking a bit like John did when he was lecturing one of the boys. "I'm older and I know what I'm talking about. You always insist that you know everything."

"I guess…" Sam repeated himself. "It's just that…"

"Just what?" Dean looked at him as he turned his key in the lock to enter their home.

"Never mind," Sam waved his hand to dismiss whatever it was that he had wanted to say. The two boys walked into the house and kicked off their shoes. Dean was the first one to finish hanging up his coat, so he ended up running into the kitchen before Sam could even put hid backpack down on the nearest table.

"It's just that I think that you're making a big mistake," Sam sighed and followed his older brother into the kitchen.


	7. Results

AN: Sorry it's been so long since I last updated, it's just that with the Olympic Games being in my hometown, I virtually have no time for writing on anything other than my Blog.

The next three days went by without anything huge happening. The boys went to school, went home, did their homework, played soccer and basketball in their backyard when they got bored. Because Dean was extra-careful not to let Sam see his bruises again and not to talk about what had happened, the incident was almost forgotten. After all, Dean was amazing at keeping everything bottled up inside- he'd been doing it for years.

The following day, however, things changed from their usual routine. As Sam was waiting in front of his school for Dean to pick him up like usual, he noticed that Dean was walking towards him, with his shoulder hunched forward. He looked really upset.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said as his older brother came up to him. "What's up?"

"Oh, uh, nothing much. I'm fine," Dean said distractedly. He wasn't about to start talking about himself now.

"Dean," Sammy said plainly. "Don't lie. It's not like I'll tell Dad or anything."

"It's nothing, really, Sam. It has nothing to do with Dad."

"Then what is it about?"

"God, you're a nag. But, fine, if you must know, it has to do with that math test I wrote a couple of days ago. I failed."

"You failed? But you studied so hard!" Sam couldn't believe it.

"Apparently, all my answers are wrong because I've been working with radians when I was supposed to have been working with degrees," Dean said nonchalantly, while actually resisting an urge to cry.

"Oh, Dean," Sammy said, feeling really sorry for his brother. "You studied so hard."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Dean said, putting on his usual façade of not caring. "It's just a test."

"But, Dean…"

"Whatever, Sammy, can we switch the subject?" Dean interrupted him abruptly, so as not to continue this discussion.

"Fine…" Sammy sighed, knowing it was pretty much useless to get Dean talking when he wasn't in the mood for it. The boys walked in silence the rest of the way home.

At home, Sam quickly said hello to Mary and ran up to his room to do his homework. Normally Dean would have teased him for being a geek, but this time around he was preoccupied with wanting to talk to his mother.

"Hi, Dean," Mary said, not looking up from the letter she was writing. "How was school?"

"Um, fine. Mom, can I talk to you?"

"Just one second, honey, okay?"

"No, Mom, _now_." Dean had virtually no time to lose because the family never knew what time John might show up from _work_. Sometimes it was four, sometimes it was nine.

"Sure," Mary said, a bit shocked at Dean's antics, and finally looked up from her letter. It wasn't usual that Dean insisted on talking to her. Usually she had to pry things out of _him_. "What is it?"

"Um, I failed my math test," Dean said quietly, looking down at the scuffs on his shoes. "I'm sorry Mom, I did study hard, it's just that I've been using radians instead of degrees on my calculator and I got the wrong answer for every question even though I typed in the formula right… I'm sorry, Ma," Dean said again, pausing to take a breath.

"Dean, Dean," Mary shushed him. "Baby, it's okay. That was an honest mistake. I'll go talk to your teacher and ask for a re-write. I'm sure, Mr., uh…"

"Jenkins."

"I'm sure Mr. Jenkins will understand. He allows re-writes, right?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, I'm sure he'll let you have one. Nothing to get upset over. Just be more careful next time; check out the little sign at the top of the screen, make sure it says _deg_."

"Thanks, Mom," Dean said quietly. He loved how his mother could make everything seem like it wasn't a big deal And she was right, if _Mary_ talked to the teacher, he'd allow him a re-write for sure.

"No problem, honey."

"I just wanted to do good on the test, to make you proud," Dean suddenly burst out, practically out of nowhere. "But then I messed up, again. I'm so stupid."

"Dean Winchester," Mary said, giving her son a look. "You're not stupid. You are very smart. Why are you so hard on yourself, anyways? You can make mistakes."

"But Sam doesn't…"

"Dean," Mary interrupted, giving her son a hug. "Would you stop comparing the two of you? You are very smart and very special in your own way. I love you more than air."

Mary ruffled Dean's hair and kissed his forehead.

"I guess," Dean said, hugging back. "I love you too, Mom."

"Me too, Dean, me too. Let's pray that you never forget that."

"I guess…" Dean's mind was already somewhere else. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to tell Dad about this, right?"

"As long as you get a decent grade on your re-write, this stays between us."

"Thanks, Mom," Dean sighed in relief.

"No problem," Mary sighed. "Now, run along, sweetheart. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"OK," Dean replied, going up to his room. The relief of his father not finding out about his test made him feel generous, so he even offered to play a round of _Sorry! _with Sam. Sam was ecstatic; it wasn't often that Dean played board games with him. They were on their third round when they heard the front door slam. John was home and he didn't sound happy.

"DEAN!" John bellowed from downstairs.

Dean jumped up and turned to Sammy. "I wonder what he wants."

"I'll come with you," Sam said.

"Seriously, Sam, do you have a death wish? Consider yourself lucky that it's not you he's after."

"Where you go, I go," Sam said, quiet determination lining his little face.

"Well, OK," Dean said, silently amazed by his brother's loyalty. "Thanks, Sammy."

The boys ran downstairs as quickly as they could, where Mary was already arguing with her husband.

"Dean," John looked at his son. "You _failed _a freaking math test?"

Dean felt the colour drain from his face. "But… How did you?"

"Thought you'd hide it from me, huh? Well, Mr. Jenkins called me and told me he was concerned with your achievement!"

"John, please," Mary interrupted. "Dean made a mistake with his calculator. You know how algebra is. He'll get a re-write."

"Stop making excuses for him, Mary!"

"John, please. Calm down. It's not worth making a big deal out of."

Dean and Sam were standing together across from their father, feeling scared.

"Dad?" Sam piped up, against his better judgement. "It wasn't Dean's fault."

"Sam, if you don't want to get on my bad side, I'd suggest shutting up, NOW! Dean, come with me."

"John!" Mary exclaimed. "Let it go, _please_."

"Mary- shut up. Dean, _follow me_."

Dean shot a helpless look around the room and followed John into the other room.


	8. Mary Finds Out

After John and Dean had entered the other room, John wasted no time and started yelling at Dean right away.

"You stupid little good-for-nothing! You failed your test? What have I always told you about school, Dean?"

"To-to do well, sir," Dean said, starting to shake slightly.

"To do well! And how did you do on this test?"

"I-I did badly. But Dad, you have to understand, it wasn't my fault…"

"Oh yeah? And whose fault was it then?"

"Well, it was my fault, but not because I didn't study, it's because I forgot to check…" Dean trailed off.

"You're lying to me, boy!" John snapped. "I think that you failed because you are too lazy to do any real work!"

"No!" Dean cried out, against his better judgement. "That's NOT true! I studied really hard!"

"You will not talk back to me, you shit!" John roared, backhanding Dean so hard that the boy nearly fell over. He was stopped by the wall, which hit his head, hard.

"Ow!" he cried, feeling the tears come to his eyes and wiping them away, embarrassed.

"Stop being a freaking girl!" John said, hitting him hard in the stomach. "Toughen up, you wimp!"

Dean felt like he was being engulfed by a wave of helplessness. There was nothing he could do- John would just keep hitting him until he grew tired of it. Nothing he could say or do could make him stop before he wanted to stop. That thought brought a fresh round of tears to Dean's eyes.

"Are you crying again?" John asked roughly. "What is the matter with you?"

At that moment, however, the door opened and Mary and Sam ran into the room. Sam stayed away from the scene while Mary ran up to John, trying to grab his arm and stop him from hitting Dean.

"John, stop!" Mary screamed. "Stop it!"

"Mary, get out of here! This is between me and Dean."

Mary, however, placed herself between her husband and son. "John, you will NOT hit him anymore! If you make another move towards him, I will call the police."

"Fine, you stupid bitch," John looked at his wife, kicking the door. "Just don't forget who pays for everything you have." With that, he left the room. Pretty soon, the sound of the front door being slammed was heard throughout the house. John had left the house, probably to go to a bar and get drunk.

Meanwhile, Mary ran up to Dean, who had sank down against the wall, hugging his knees and crying quietly. She sat down next to him and took a good look at him. He looked pitiful, with a black eye and tears running across his cheeks.

"Sh, baby," she soothed, running her hand through Dean's hair. "Sh, it's okay."

Sam had moved closer to his mother and brother, sidling close to Dean. "It's okay, Dean," he offered weakly. "Dad's gone."

"That's right," Mary said, putting an arm around Sam. "You boys are safe now."

Dean sniffled a couple of times, then looked around, as though suddenly realizing something. "Oh God, I'm crying," he said. "I am such a wimp."

"No, no," Mary said, rubbing Dean's back gently. "It's okay to cry. You just let it all out. What happened was not okay. In fact, I am still in shock."

"It's okay, Mom," Dean said, starting to calm down. "I made Dad mad. It was my fault."

"No, Dean," Mary shushed him. "This is in no way your fault. I just don't understand how this could have happened. Your father was never like this before…"

"Mommy?" Sammy spoke up, hesitantly and quietly.

"Yes, baby?"

"Dad hit Dean before," Sam told her, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked away from Dean, who, despite his puffy eyes, started shooting him murderous glances.

"What?"

"He, um, beat Dean up after we made a mess in his office. Dean still has the bruises on his stomach. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Dean made me promise not to…" Sam trailed off.

"Dean, is that true?" Mary looked at her eldest.

"Yeah," Dean said, because there was nothing else he could say by now. "It's true."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"It wasn't that important…" Dean trailed off lamely.

"It wasn't that important? Jonathan Dean," Mary looked at him. "If it weren't for the circumstances, I'd kill you on the spot. What have I always told you about telling me if something's bothering you?"

"I know, Mom, it's just that…"

"Oh Dean… Let me treat your eye and look at your bruises. After that I think it'd be best for you to get some rest. I can always yell at you later."

For once, Dean didn't argue. He followed his mother into the bathroom, where she took out her first aid kit. She treated his eye and his bruises as best she could and sent him to his bedroom. "I'll be there in a second," she said, sitting down and taking her head into her hands.

Dean went to his bedroom, feeling slightly guilty for causing his mother so much anxiety. Once in his bedroom, he noticed Sam, sitting on his bed and drawing a cartoon in his notebook

"Dean?" he asked, looking up. "I'm sorry. It's just that after I saw you there, with Dad…"

"I know, Sam," Dean sighed. "It's not your fault. I guess I should have told Mom right away. I'm not mad or anything."

If it had been any other day, Sam would have rubbed the fact that he had been right into Dean's face. This time, however, he just let it go.

"I'm really tired, Sam," Dean said. "I'm going to bed."

"Well, I'll be quiet so you can rest," Sam said. "Did it hurt Dean?"

"Of course it hurt," Dean replied, getting underneath his covers. "You know how Dad is."

At that moment, Mary came into the room.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she said, sitting down on Dean's bed.

"About what, Mom?"

"Not seeing it sooner. I should have figured it out."

"It's not your fault, Mom, it's mine."

"We'll talk about this all later… Get some rest." Mary kissed the top of Dean's head. "Let's go, Sam. I think Dean needs some quiet right about now."

Mary kissed Dean's head again and left the room, Sam trailing behind her.

"Mommy?" Sam asked. "Is Dad going to be mad at us when he comes back?"

"Sam, we're not going to have to worry about that for much longer. We can't live like this. We're going to leave."


	9. Plans

The next morning Dean woke up, feeling like someone had gotten inside his head and was banging a hammer around in there. It was only… ten in the morning, he found out from looking over to his alarm clock, and he was already feeling the beginnings of a migraine. How did _that _happen?

_What's going on? _Dean thought groggily, before remembering everything that had happened last night. _Oh, right. Ow._

"Dean?" he heard Sam's voice calling him. "Are you up?"

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?" Sam sat up in the bed opposite Dean's. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean tried to sound nonchalant. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know…" Sam started, but trailed off after he heard someone knock on the door. "Who's that?"

"I don't know, Sam, I don't have x-ray vision…" Sam's questions were starting to increase his headache.

"Do you think it's Dad?"

"At this point, I don't really care…"

Suddenly the door opened and Mary came in.

"Hi boys," she said. "You're both up, I see."

"We thought you were Dad!" Sam exclaimed suddenly.

"_We _didn't think anything, _Sam _did," Dean felt the need to correct.

"Well, anyways, it's not Dad. It's me. Your father left me a really angry voicemail last night, saying he'd be staying at Bobby's for the night. I let you sleep in because you've both had a long day yesterday, but we have to get going now."

"Get going where?" Dean asked.

"Well, I told Sammy, but I didn't tell you because you needed to rest and I didn't want you getting excited before bed… I'm leaving your father."

"You're… what?" Dean was at a loss for words.

"Well, I can't live with a man that hurts the two most important people in my life. I just can't. What kind of mother would I be if I stayed?"

"But… where will you go? Where will Sam and I go?"

"Sh, Dean…" Mary said soothingly. "I'm not going to leave you alone with your father. The three of us are going to drive up to my parents's house and stay there for a little while. While we're there, I'll try to figure out the details of a divorce."

"So… we're going to be spending our time going between you and Dad?"

"I don't know yet… But I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get full custody, after the court hears of what's been going on."

"Mommy?" Sam suddenly asked. "Are we going to see Dad again?"

Mary sighed. "Yes, you will. I can't cut you two off from your father forever. I just think that we all need some time away from each other for a while… What do you think, though? Are you okay with going to Gramma and Grandpa's house?"

"I don't really know what we should do. I just know that I want to stay with you…" Dean said. "I don't want to live with Dad…"

Sam nodded.

"Well, that's that. I believe that it'd be better to call your father once we're at Gramma's… If we tell him earlier, he might do something to stop us from going."

The boys nodded again.

"As for school, well, I guess you'll both be getting a little vacation for a little while…"

"Woo!" Dean called out and even Sam smiled. "That's great!"

"Watch it…" Mary laughed. "School is important."

"Yeah, right," Dean said under his breath. "School sucks."

"Anyways," Mary pretended not to have heard him. "Pack a bag of clothes and other stuff you'll need for about a week. We'll come back later, after your father has calmed down. We don't have any time to lose, since I have absolutely no idea when he'll be coming back from Bobby's."

"OK, Mom," Dean said. "We'll be quick."

"Good. One more thing, though. Dean, I never want to hear of you hiding things from me again. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, Mom. I know."

"No, Dean, I'm serious. I always thought that we had the kind of relationship where we told each other things. And now you're keeping something this big from me."

"Mom, it's just that… I didn't want you to worry."

"Dean. It's my job to worry about you and not the other way around. Don't you understand that?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam piped up.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean retorted.

"OK, boys," Mary intervened. "That's enough. Dean, I don't think you're getting me, but we'll talk in the car. Now get ready, we need to leave as soon as possible."

Mary left the room and left Dean and Sam quickly got dressed and packed two duffel bags. They went downstairs, where Mary was already waiting for them.

"Ready?" She asked them and they nodded. "OK, let's go."

They went out the front door, heading towards the driveway. As they were heading towards Mary's car, they saw John, obviously just getting back from Bobby's.

Everyone suddenly stopped short. John looked from face to face, gaze finally falling on the duffel bags.

"What the hell is this?" he asked. No one spoke for a few moments until Mary finally spoke up.

"We're going to my parents' house, John," she said. "I feel that we need to spend some time away from each other."

"Are you freaking joking me?" John asked, looking around again. "Mary, what the hell is this?"


	10. The Escape

Driving on the highway at night was always so peaceful. Mary looked at Dean, sitting in the passenger's seat and staring straight ahead. Sammy was already sleeping, curled up under a blanket in the backseat, but Dean was never able to sleep in cars.

"We'll be there soon, Dean." Dean smiled weakly in reply. "You can catch some sleep then, as soon as I look at your eye again."

"Mom, it's fine. Not a big deal." The kid wasn't being honest, as usual. John had given him quite a shiner-it looked like it really hurt. Not to mention the emotional hell the kid must be going through right about now. To think that just a few hours earlier…

"_What is going on here, Mary?" John asked again, obviously furious._

"_Like I said, the boys and I are going to spend some time at my parents' house. While we're there, we can start figuring out what we want to do from there. A divorce would take…"_

"_A divorce? Are you stupid? You are not leaving. Did you really think you could just go off to your parents' house without telling me or something?"_

"_John, you can't keep us here. I am not staying with a man that hits my children."_

"_Oh fine. You're such a drama queen. I backhand the kid once, after he deserved it, and you go all _Child Services _on me."_

"_I know about Dean, John," Mary said quietly. "I know about the bruises that somehow appeared on his chest after the boys made a mess in your office."_

_John turned to his eldest song. "You cried to your mommy?"_

"_No, sir, I…" Dean paused, unsure of what to say. He was screwed either way._

"_I told you to keep your mouth shut!" John yelled, punching Dean in the eye, knocking him backward into a table. _

"_Dean!" Sam, who had been standing unbearably still for the last few minutes, cried out. He ran over to his brother._

"_Mom, he's bleeding!" he cried out, after seeing the blood gushing out of the spot where his head collided with the table._

_Mary ran over to Dean and placed her hand on the back of his head, to support him. "Deanie, are you alright?"_

_  
Dean nodded slowly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm not passed out or anything."_

_Still, Mary looked into his eyes for signs of a concussion._

"_Don't baby him, Mary," was all John thought to say. But Mary had had enough._

"_Sam, we're leaving," Mary said, helping Dean sit up. "Go to the car, NOW."_

_Sam grabbed his bag and ran outside. Mary was about to join him, but wasn't able to._

"_Don't even THINK about it," John said, standing up to block Mary's way. "You are not leaving."_

_But Mary stood up, taking Dean by the arm. "Let's go, Dean." She quickly dodged around John and ran out to the car, getting in. Sam was already inside. She quickly turned her key, starting the ignition._

"_Don't think that you can get away!" John, seeing that he couldn't do anything to stop them, yelled. "I know where your parents live, Mary! You'll be hearing from me!" _

_With that they drove away, heading in the direction of Mary's parents' house._

The way to her parents' house was pretty long-around seven hours. Of course, as soon as Mary had decided that they had driven far enough away from the house, they stopped at a gas station and Mary bought some antiseptic. She looked over and sterilized Dean's wound, despite his protestations that it didn't hurt. After that, they just kept on driving, occasionally stopping at some roadside rest stop to eat, use the restroom and just stretch their legs. After the initial _are you okays?_ they didn't really talk about John or what would happen now. They probably all preferred to leave it alone for a little while. After all, they'd have to come back to the subject soon enough-Gramma was pretty inquisitive.

The day had been exhausting for everyone, so Mary was glad that they were almost there. But they still had at least half an hour of driving left and Mary wanted to talk to Dean before they got there.

"Deanie?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I need you to talk to me. And to be honest this time."

"About what, Mom?"

"How you feel about all this. Are you scared, mad?"

"No... I'm fine, Mom, really."

"Dean. You always tell me that you're fine. But I wouldn't think that you'd be fine, given the circumstances."

"Well, I'm mad. At Dad, I mean. And my head kind of hurts."

"Honey, why didn't you tell me that earlier? We could have gotten you aspirin."

"I don't know… I didn't want you to have to pull over and stuff… I didn't need it that bad."

"Dean Winchester. Let me be the judge of that, won't you?"

"I will, Mom," Dean said, but Mary wasn't too convinced.

"You are a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"I got it from you."

"I guess that's true," Mary laughed. "Listen, Dean, I know that today was hard on the two of you, but hopefully we'll get away from that at Gramma and Grandpa's house."

"I know, Mom," Dean smiled. "Thanks for, you know, everything."

"You shouldn't have to thank me, Dean. This should have never happened in the first place."

"No, it shouldn't have. But it isn't your fault, Mom."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.


	11. Gramma's House

Mary rang the door to her parents' house. She had called them from a pay phone earlier that day to tell them that they were coming and to ask them if she and the boys could stay there for a little bit. Gramma Campbell was outraged at the fact that Mary had even had to ask.

"Bring my grandsons over here this instant. I told you not to marry John," she couldn't help from adding, though.

Anyways, Mary's mother opened the door and gave her a hug. "Hi, honey," she said and then turned to Dean.

"Is that my oldest grandson I'm looking at? You've grown so tall that I can barely recognize you!"

"Hi, Gramma," Dean smiled. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetheart. But it seems like someone is missing. Where's Sammy?"

"He fell asleep on the way here and we didn't want to wake him," Mary explained. "He's in the car now; we decided to carry him in once we said hi to you."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Gramma Campbell looked indignant. "Don't just leave him in the car! Carry him in!"

"OK,OK," Mary laughed. Her mother hadn't changed a bit. "Dean, come help me out."

"Nonsense! Dean, come with me. You must be starving. Jack! Help Mary out here!"

Jack Campbell, Mary's father came out. After the customary hello hugs, he came out to the car with Mary and emerged shortly after, carrying in a sleeping Sammy.

"Sh…" Gramma Campbell shushed. "Here, let's put him to bed and after that we can all talk. We've put together a nice room for the three of you."

Jack carried Sam into Mary's old room and the rest of the gang followed. When they were little and lived closer to Mary's parents' house, Sam and Dean used to have sleepovers at their grandparents' house and would sleep in Mary's old room. They hadn't been here in a while, though, so it was a bit strange coming into the room.

"Wow," Mary exclaimed. "The room is just like I remember it." As she was saying it, Sammy stirred.

"Where am I?"

"Sh, Sammy, you fell asleep. We're at Gramma's house now," Dean said.

"Sammy, go to sleep, baby," Mary looked at him as Jack placed the boy into Mary's old bed."

"Is this where we'll be sleeping?" Dean asked.

"Yep. You and Sam will have to share a bed and we've brought out a cot for your mother."

"Cool," Dean smiled. "Thanks, Gramma, Grandpa."

"Here, how about we go into the other room so that Sammy can sleep? Deanie, you must be starving. How would you like some soup?"

"That'd be great."

"I made tomato and rice soup, since that used to be your favourite. Is it still?"

"Yep," Mary laughed. "Dean here always bugs me to make it."

"Great," Gramma smiled. "Well, follow me, I'll pour you a big bowl of it."

Dean and his grandparents went out of the room, while Mary stayed behind for a few seconds. She kissed Sammy's forehead and pulled the quilt over him. This was something she did every night for both him and Dean, no matter where they were. "Sweet dreams, son," she said and left the room, turning off the lights.

Once the four of them were seated at the kitchen table eating big plates of hot soup, Gramma finally brought up the subject of John.

"I didn't want to bring this up until tomorrow, but I just have to know. What is it that happened with John, exactly?"

"Allison!" Jack looked at his wife. "Let them eat. We can always talk about John tomorrow."

"I was just asking, Jack…"

"It's okay, Dad," Mary interrupted. "We might as well tell you. John started having anger issues. He hit Dean a couple of times and he threatened to hit Sammy. I decided that I couldn't live with him any longer. I didn't know where else to take the boys, so we came here."

"You made the right decision," Jack looked at his daughter. "You can always come to us if you need a place to stay."

"Honey, that's terrible. He actually hit you, Dean?" Gramma Campbell asked, not noticing that Dean was beginning to shift in his seat, looking awkward.

"Um, it wasn't that bad…"

"Honey, do you want to go to bed?" Mary asked, knowing that Dean wanted to get away from the kitchen, to not be talked about and felt sorry for. "You're beginning to look kind of tired."

"Sure, Mom," Dean replied, happy that his mom came to his rescue. "I am kind of tired."

"Good night, Dean," Gramma looked at him. "You remember where your room is, don't you?"

Dean nodded.

"Just make sure you don't wake up Sammy."

"I won't," Dean said. "Good night."

"I'll be right back," Mary said, following Dean. Once Dean was inside his room, she sat down on the cot while Dean was getting ready for bed.

"Dean," Mary whispered, so as not to wake Sam. "I know that you don't want to talk about Dad, but Gramma and Grandpa are going to ask questions."

"I know, Mom. I just… I didn't want to talk about it just then."

"That's understandable. Honey, I'm sorry, we didn't get to talk a lot today, but tomorrow we can change that."

"Cool."

"Alright," Mary brushed Dean's hair out of his face. "Goodnight, baby. I love you."

Dean got into bed quietly. "Goodnight Mom."

Mary kissed her son and went out of the room. She joined her parents in the kitchen and the three of them sat there for a long time, talking and eating. Suddenly, however, they heard a scream coming from Mary's old room. A scream coming from Mary's old room.

"MOOOOM!!!!" Dean called. "MOOOOM!!!!"


	12. Nightmare

For a moment, everyone was too scared to move. Had John managed to find them this quickly? Had something happened to Dean? The possibilities were too atrocious to even begin to consider, that is why Mary and her parents couldn't get themselves to go to the room and see what was going on. Another scream from Dean, however, broke them out of their reverie.

"MOOOOM!"

Mary ran into the room, her parents right behind her. She quickly scanned the room, checking for the boys. She was relieved to see that no one was hurt. Sam was sitting up on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chin while Dean was thrashing around, screaming for Mary.

"You're alright," Mary felt a sudden wave of relief. "You two are alright."

"Mommy!" Sam cried out. "Dean's just having a nightmare and I can't get him to wake up."

"It's okay, Sammy," Mary reached towards Sam and squeezed his hand. "Here, I'll wake him up."

"Hi, baby," Mary shook Dean's shoulder gently. "Wake up, Dean."

"Is he alright?" Jack asked.

"He looks fine," Mary replied. "I think that he's just shaken up by the events of the last few days. Here, I'll get him to wake up."

"Alright then, Allison, let's give them some privacy. Dean wouldn't want us crowding here, it'd embarrass him."

"I guess you're right…" Allison smiled. "Good night, Mary. Don't hesitate to wake us should you need anything. And good night, Sammy."

"Thanks, Mom," Mary smiled and then turned all of her attention back to Dean. "Come on, baby."

"No… No…" Dean called out. "Mom, Sammy…"

Mary shook Dean gently, finally getting him to wake up.

"Mom?" Dean started, looking around the room. "Sammy?"

"Sh, honey," Mary sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You were having a nightmare."

"Are… are you okay? Is Sam here?"

"Of course. Look, I'm right here, so is Sammy."

"I'm fine, Dean. Nothing happened," Sammy chipped in.

"My nightmare… It was so real. Dad was hitting Sam and you were in the middle…"

"Sh, Dean," Mary tried to calm her son down. "It was just a dream. It didn't happen."

"You sure?" Dean looked around the room again.

"Positive. We're fine."

Upon hearing this, Dean burst into tears. He tried to wipe them away at first, but they just kept on coming. Eventually he gave up trying and just cried.

"I'm sorry… It was just so real…"

"Dean, Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for," Mary said, for what felt like the thousandth time in the last few days. "I'm just so glad that you're not hurt."

Mary hugged Dean and started rocking him, just like she did when he was little, while whispering soft things to calm him down.

"Sh Dean," she whispered. "I'm here. Mommy's here."

Dean continued crying, but his sobs started dying down, slowly.

"I love you, Deanie. You're okay. It was just a dream."

Sammy sidled closer to Dean, which wasn't hard to do, since they were sharing a bed. "It's okay, Dean. You don't have to be scared. It was just a dream."

Dean finally stopped crying. Mary gave him a final hug and then let go of him.

"There, Dean. You'll be just fine, you just had a scare."

"I'm so embarrassed," Dean looked at his mother and brother. "I shouldn't have just burst out crying like that."

"It's okay, Deanie," Mary reassured him. "There's nothing wrong with crying. It helps you feel better."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said. "I still cry sometimes; there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to."

Dean sniffled. "Well, you're younger Sam…"

"Dean, it's okay," Mary looked at him, repeating herself. "It's totally okay."

"Well, I guess," Dean mumbled quietly.

"Okay, boys, I think that it's time for the two of you to go to sleep again, otherwise you won't be able to wake up tomorrow."

"Okay, Mom," Sam nodded. "Um, Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Will you sleep with me?"

Dean laughed. He had told Sammy at least a million times not to say it like that.

"Sure… Dean? Do you want to have the cot to yourself or would you like to sleep in the bed with me and Sammy?"

"Well… Fine, I'll sleep in the bed with you and Sammy." Dean made it sound like he was doing them a huge favour.

"Okay," Mary crawled in between Sam and Dean. "Good night, boys. If you begin to have a nightmare, just remember that I am right here next to you."

"Thanks, Mom," Dean said quietly.

"No problem, sweetie."

Within seconds, Sam and Dean were sound asleep. Neither of them had another nightmare that night.


	13. Morning

The next morning Dean woke up feeling groggy. He took a quick look around the room and found that Mary wasn't in the room, while Sam was next to him, snoring softly. He smiled to himself, making a mental note to tease Sammy about it later. Dean then got up and started getting dressed. He pulled on his jeans and then started looking around for his black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He had made such a mess last night, when he threw all of his clothes on the floor. Now it was impossible to find anything.

Dean continued searching, while thinking about last night. _How embarrassing. I shouldn't be scared of Dad, he's far away now. _Hopefully Mary wouldn't mention it and neither would Sam. Even though the shrimp was annoying, he didn't tease Dean about subjects he knew he was sensitive about. Dean just hoped that something like it wouldn't happen again.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam stirred.

"Shit, did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, kind of… It's okay, though. I should get up anyway. Gramma's making pancakes."

"Sam?" Dean asked. "You were awake last night, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah… I was the one who got Mom."

"Was I… crying?"

"A little bit," Sam said, embarrassed for Dean.

"Oh God," Dean said, his cheeks flaming. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"Dean, it's okay. You've been through a lot," Sam looked at his big brother. "And everyone cries sometimes."

"You sound like Mom," Dean observed.

Sammy laughed and suddenly ran up to Dean and gave him a big hug. Dean was surprised at first, but then hugged back. He was happy that his brother didn't tease him about last night.

"Okay, okay," Dean said after a while. "What are we, girls?"

"You're the _girl_!" Sam laughed.

"No, you're the girl," Dean retorted. "But Sam, if you tell anyone about me crying, you'll wish you were never born."

"That depends on what you can do for me…" Sam said slyly. Dean punched his arm lightly and the two of them never spoke of it again. Even though Dean made fun of Sam a lot, he knew that his brother would never tell anyone else about it.

After Sam got dressed and Dean finally found his shirt, they went downstairs. Their mom and their grandparents were already sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

"Well look who decided to show up!" Gramma exclaimed. "Morning boys!"

"Good morning," Mary smiled. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good, thanks," Dean replied, happy that no one was asking him questions about his nightmare. They all understood that there were some things he just didn't want to talk about.

"That's good. Sit down, boys, and have some pancakes."

"Yay!" Sam exclaimed. "Do you have syrup, Gramma?"

"I sure do. Just don't drown your pancakes in it, Sammy."

The boys ate their breakfast quickly, since they were both pretty hungry. After they were done Dean turned towards his mother.

"So what are we going to do today?"

"Well, I thought we'd stay here for a few days while I tried to figure out how to go about getting a divorce. I don't want the two of you to fall behind on your schoolwork, though, so I'm going to tutor you a little bit."

"Mo-om," Dean whined. "I thought we were getting a vacation from school."

"You are, Dean. I just don't want you to fall behind."

"But today's Sunday!"

"Well, no one said that we have to start today."

"So what can we do today?" Sammy spoke up.

"You can go to the plaza. There's a movie theatre there," Gramma Allison replied.

"I had wanted to see _The Dead Returns_…" Dean mused.

"That's a cheery title, Dean," Gramma observed.

"Well, I'll take the two of you." Grandpa Jack said. "It's just a few minutes drive and besides, I want to spend some quality time with my grandsons."

"That works," Mary said. "That will give Mom and I time to talk."

"It's settled then," Grandpa Jack said.

Sam and Dean were happy about getting to go to the movies, since it wasn't something that they got to do that often at home. John didn't approve of them _wasting their time_.

Once the first half of the day had been planned, the boys got ready to leave. After hugging Mary goodbye, they got into Jack's car and the three of them drove off to the theatres. On the way there, however, Sam noticed something strange.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"That car that's behind us… it looks like Dad's car."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sammy. Dad wouldn't come out all this way."

"But… look at the car. I have a weird feeling that…"

"It's an Impala, Sam. I'm sure Dad isn't the only one who has one."

"Well, okay," Sam said. Dean was right. Dad wasn't the only one who owned an Impala. However, the weird feeling in his stomach didn't go away.


	14. The Impala

For the rest of the morning, Sam didn't think about the car behind them. Dean had said that it was nothing so it must have been nothing… Him and Dean saw a movie with Grandpa Jack and then went to a burger joint for lunch. It's been a while since either of them had really spent time with Mary's dad, so they had a lot to catch up on. Luckily, however, the boys found that their grandfather was still just as easy to talk to as he had been the last time they visited. It was as Sam and Dean were sitting at a booth in the restaurant, finishing up their fries and listening to a funny story about Mary when she was little that Grandpa Jack glanced at his watch.

"OK, boys, time to go. We would want them to start worrying about us back home."

"Aw, do we have to go?" Sammy whined.

"Afraid so, Sam," Grandpa said. "But don't worry, I intend to spend lots of time with both of my grandsons before you guys have to go again."

Sammy reluctantly mumbled something in the way of acceptance. Dean, on the other hand, sighed. Where and when they would go was still left to be determined. After all, it's not like they had anywhere they could go at the moment. Still, Dean pushed the thought out of his mind. Now wasn't the time to think about those things; he just wanted to have fun with his grandpa.

It was as they were driving back home that Dean felt Sam start to nudge him again.

"Dean. Dean. DEAN," Sam whispered furiously.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"Look, the car is still there," Sam said, pointing behind him.

"What car?"

"The Impala that looks just like Dad's. Look, it's following us again."

Dean was just about to tell his brother, once and for all, not to obsess about such things when he looked into the side window. The car _did _look a lot like Dad's, but… what were the chances? No, that wasn't possible. But…

"Grandpa?" Dean spoke up.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Um, there's a car behind us, it looks a lot like Dad's. And Sam said that he saw it when we were on the way here as well."

"Really now?" Grandpa Jack glanced behind him to make sure. "Are you sure it's your father, boys?"

"I don't know, I can't really see the face of the guy who's driving it," Dean said. "Can you, Sam?"

"No," Sammy said miserably. "It's too far away."

"Well, in that case all we can do is drive towards home and see if it goes away. I really hope that it was just a coincidence. But if it's not, we'll call the police as soon as we get home."

Sam and Dean just looked at Grandpa Jack and nodded, for lack of anything else to do. They drove towards home, keeping one eye out for the car the whole time. It did not stray off the path and followed them to the house the entire way there. When they reached the house and pulled up into the driveway the Impala pulled over to the curb half a block from the house.

"So now what do we do?" Dean asked. "I don't want him to come up to us."

"You boys will go into the house and lock the doors. I will go up to the person in the car, whether it's John or not, and ask him what he wants."

"Grandpa!" Sam called out. "Are you sure that that's not dangerous…"

"Now, Sam," Grandpa looked at his youngest grandchild. "Chances are, it's not your father. And even if it is, he came here for you and your mother, not me. So as long as the three of you are inside the house, everything should be fine…"

"No Grandpa, what if it's…" Dean quickly interjected. "I don't want you to…"

"Now, Dean, it's probably nothing…"

Dean, Sammy and Grandpa Jack then started arguing about how they should proceed. As a matter of fact, they got so caught up in arguing that they didn't notice someone come right up to their car. They didn't notice it, in fact, until they heard someone rapping on the passenger window. Dean and Sam quickly looked up and met the gaze of none other, but their father, John Winchester.

It was as if both boys were frozen over with panic. Neither of them was able to say a word or make a movement, except to continue staring at their father. It was Grandpa Jack who was the first one to gather himself. "Boys, go into the house and call your mother. Quickly. I'll talk to John."

Dean and Sam did as they were told, going into the house and calling Mary. After several quick explanations, Mary gave each boy a hug and went out into the driveway. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam sat down on the couch and turned towards each other. Their grandma was out getting groceries, so the only people they had, at this very moment, were each other.

"Dean?" Sammy asked. "Do you think that Mom's going to be okay?"

"Yeah, Sam, I do. I mean, Dad's not a lunatic. They're probably just going to talk."

"OK, Dean," Sam replied, slightly comforted by that idea. Of course, what Dean had said wasn't entirely accurate. He was actually scared to death of what was going on at that very moment. But big brother that he was, he didn't want Sam to worry, so he reassured him that everything would be alright.

Sam and Dean continued sitting on that couch, doing nothing but staring towards the TV that wasn't even on.

"I wish I could know what they're talking about…" Sam whispered. "I hate this sitting here and not knowing."

"Yeah, I know," Dean replied. "This is what's going to kill us, in the end."

The boys sat on the couch for _another _ten minutes. And then another. After that, another twenty. The boys were getting visibly antsy, unable to wait much longer. Just as Dean was contemplating getting up and going outside himself the door opened and in went….


End file.
